You know how we all have certain characteristics that our friends ascribe to us, but we ourselves would never in a million years come up with when we’re asked to describe ourselves? Mine: Knower of all obscure children’s songs.
Now this is a flat-out exaggeration, and I’ve many-a-time been in a situation where I wished I knew the song that someone else was singing to the kids in the room, but it is true that I could hold my own in a silly song contest. Not just children’s songs, but TV theme songs, commercial jingles, et cetera, et cetera.
One particular song runs through my head almost instantly when I wake up every Tuesday morning. I learned this little ditty from an LP that I’ve no doubt my mom bought for my older sister when we were wee; Cere’s name was penned ever-so-neatly in the top corner of the sunshine yellow border of the jacket. But I’m the one who listened to it repeatedly for the better part of a decade (sorry Mom, but you brought it on yourself!).
The album? Mickey Mouse Club: Mousekedances and Other Mouseketeer Favorites. An absolute classic from 1975, with 24 hit Mouseketunes. And no, I can’t name them all (much to my chagrin, I also can’t find a song list online. The interwebs have failed me!).
I can, however, sing all the words to one of the songs: “Tuesday is Guest Star Day.”
Today is Tuesday, you know what that means!
We’re gonna have a special guest.
So get up, broom. Sweep the place clean,
Dust off the mat so the Welcome can be seen.
Roll out the carpet, strike up the band,
And give out with a hip hooray – hip hooray!
Wiggle your ears like good Mouseketeers,
We’re gonna present our guest today,
‘Cause Tuesday is guest star day.
And I do sing it. Every Tuesday. Because on Tuesdays, I wake up with relish. There’s a little extra spring in my step, and when I’m getting ready, I make sure that my hair and eye makeup look just so.
You see friends, there’s a Guest Star in my life each Tuesday. And no, it’s not a cast member from “Lost,” although they’ve made Tuesdays special in their own way [sigh].
No folks, my Guest Star is special to a small-but-stalwart group. There are four of us who wait in anticipation, listening for the tell-tale rumble that occurs a little after eight, signalling his short-lived appearance in our lives once again. When we hear it, we dash for the family room window, and while three-year-old Manny perches precariously on the railing of the doll crib, I scoop up two mostly-naked toddlers in my arms, stand on my toes and we all gaze adoringly down at our fleeting Guest Star….
The garbage man [bigger sigh].
That’s right, the big green CleanScapes truck brings one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen to pick up my trash each week, and under the guise of “helping the children,” I get to stare unabashedly. And our eyes always meet.
Of course, what he’s seeing from two stories down in the alley are three angelic young faces with big brown eyes and beaming smiles, waving their pudgy hands in an enthusiastic hello, and the hair, eyes, and rapidly-turning-red-from-the-exertion forehead of me, the baby platform.
I suppose the brevity of my garbage man’s weekly visit is both a blessing and a curse. A curse because, let’s face it, I could look at that face all the live long day. A blessing because, let’s face it, I can only hold both girls for a couple of minutes. So it’s a bittersweet moment when GM gives a final wave, hops up on the side of the truck, and rumbles to the next row of cans.
With the warmer weather, he’s switched from a knitted skull cap to a baseball cap [biggest sigh yet].
So if you see me on Tuesday and there’s a wistful smile on my face and a faraway look in my eye, join in with the happy song in my head: